Infidelity

by KT Morrison

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’d tell you.”

  “Have you heard from him?”

  “Ah, mmm, Derek, I haven’t talked to him since Friday morning when he was—ahh—mmm, with the police.”

  His finger stroked her and his other hand caressed her bottom, explored her thighs. He paused a moment, and she thought he might stop. Then his finger slid itself inside her, gently parting her hot wet folds, and she sucked her lips into her mouth.

  “What did he say to you?”

  “Ah, he didn’t say anything. He went off with the detective, mmm, then the manager sent us home. I’ve only heard from you since—”

  “What do you think he’s done?”

  “I don’t know. He hasn’t sone anything, Derek, has he? I thought you said we—”

  His free hand guided her forward and she bent for him. She got her hands out and lifted her rump to him, pushing her chest into the bed sheets. Her sex was open to him, lifted, her cheeks spread.

  “Everything is fine. I’d just like to know what my brother is up to.”

  Maureen couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was not fine. What had Mitch done? Did her Derek do something? If he had, it wouldn’t be likely that he’d have the nerve to meet his mistress in a hotel and make love to her. She heard his zipper being drawn down. She was excited. She couldn’t wait to feel him breach her, she loved that feeling. Loved that initial penetration, feeling how hard he was, how urgent he felt, how much he desired to be inside her.

  His tip prodded at her sex. She felt it part her folds, his glans pushing into her.

  “What do you think he could have done?” he asked her, and he slid himself into her all at once, painfully deep, it made her cry out.

  “I don’t know Derek, ow.”

  “Tell me,” he said as he began to ease himself in and out of her, slowly, deeply.

  “Mm—he seems honest, Derek.”

  His hand slapped at her haunch, a loud crack in the quiet room.

  “Ah, oh, Derek, mmm… I don’t know.” He was persistent and steady, drawing himself all the way out and then plunging himself back in all the way until she felt his hips pad into her bottom.

  He drew himself out, his tip clinging to her wet lips, whispered, “Could you find out?”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  He thrust himself inside her, hurt her, made her holler. He pounded her, her face pushing into the bed and she gripped handfuls of sheets and closed her eyes. He thrust hard, ten times, then slowed, stopped. His hand caressed her back.

  “You tell me what you can do. Think about what you can do for us.”

  She felt his cock fall out of her. His hands worked over her flesh and she liked to think of him above her, looking down at her liking what he saw and coddling her pretty soft flesh. He took his cock in his hand and she felt him probing again, felt his tip stroking her sex, sliding up a little high, then pushing forward. She opened her eyes. She’d never had a boy back there.

  “Derek?” she said. She wasn’t going to tell him to stop. He was just a bit thicker than her other boyfriends had been. She wasn’t sure she could do this. “Be careful—”

  He slid himself in regardless. She moaned a long low sound. It felt better than she’d expected. He pushed her apart with his girth and she liked the stretch she felt. “Oh, Derek.”

  “And what do you think of that little slut wife of his?”

  “Kate?” she asked, feeling very distant, very removed from the conversation.

  “Kate,” he said. He drew himself out and pushed in again, deeper this time.

  “I don’t know. She seems a bit, ah, o-odd…”

  “I always wondered why he married that slag.” He got a rhythm going, short strokes, not too deep, shallow and steady.

  “Ah, he loves her. He really loves her.”

  “He does doesn’t he?”

  “She’s the centre of his universe.”

  “If I want to get Mitch I should go through Kate shouldn’t I?”

  “Ah, oh—he would do anything for her…”

  “Yes, he would. I get it. I’m sure she gives him a great shagging.”

  “I think they get a little—f-freaky.”

  “I think they do too. Freakier than us?” he said and slapped her across her rump.

  “No, Derek.”

  “I think they do. Much freakier. You know that little slut couldn’t carry a baby,” he said and he was getting quicker, deeper.

  “N-no.”

  He picked up the pace, pounding her now, said, “She’s taken so many different cocks, so many loads up her dirty snatch that her womb is polluted.”

  “Oh, Derek.”

  “She couldn’t give my little brother a child.”

  “Mmm, he’s, ah, she’s everything to him.”

  He thrust into her urgently, she knew he was going to come. She wanted him to, wanted to feel him let loose inside her. She wondered if maybe, for someone who didn’t like Kate, he sure seemed to consider her a lot.

  He roared out, erupted inside her. She felt him splashing and squirting into her body and she loved it, she moaned out his name and he squeezed her waist, buried himself deep into her.

  If he wanted someone to be the centre of his universe she would do anything, everything, to prove herself to him.

  *

  Tuesday morning, bright and early, Kate and Omar stopped at a cafe in Frontignan and picked up coffee for everyone. They’d left the apartment at 6A.M. in his M3 to meet the convoy at the garage. Kate was nervous. She was going away with Omar but he wasn’t alone. It was not going to be just the two of them traveling through France to Italy. She wasn’t sure what to expect from these guys he worked with.

  When they pulled into the parking area at Frontec, she saw his race crew was already there, standing around in the low morning light, laughing and smoking. She wondered how they were going to receive the news that she was coming along.

  “So, come on, you can come and meet them,” Omar said, cranking the hand brake and smiling at her under his sunglasses. She gave him a brave face and nodded as he got out and went around to the trunk. She undid the seatbelt and watched them, they were shouting a greeting to him, talking loudly in French. Some had noticed her in there and she could see two of them, looking in to the car at who had come with him. Kate adjusted her top, straightened it, as she opened the door to get out. She was wearing the exact same thing as yesterday but she’d got a clean bra and had put on some panties.

  Omar brought the coffees out of the trunk in a cardboard box that the cafe had given him. The men were putting their hands in the box and pulling out the tall, steaming paper cups. She walked to the group putting her sunglasses up on her head, she watched each of them in turn raise their faces and watch her come to them. Omar was talking to them in French, probably explaining the situation. They were listening but their faces were all turned to her. It made her feel uncomfortable. They were expressionless, she could feel all their eyes moving over her, looking at every part of her. One at the back turned to spit in the grass.

  Omar would be explaining that he was bringing Kate along—little whore, they would all think—that he was now coming along in a second car, not traveling with them, that he had booked a second room at the resort where they were staying. They would think she was an interloper, a distraction from what they had to do. She knew she was too. This was probably a big mistake. But every time in the last three days that she had caught her reflection in the mirror and asked herself what on fucking earth she was doing, mirror-Kate turned away and didn't answer her. Of course it was tragically wrong, of course she was out of her mind, but something about it felt so good.

  The slightest jostle could break this spell, wake her up and make her confront herself. She knew if she stopped her mind from racing just one moment and considered Mitch, what her absence might do to him, she would run right back to him. So she kept moving, exploring. Every minute she spent with Omar was a
curiosity being sated, passions being teased; right now it had her on fire and she wanted just a bit more heat. She could stand it a bit more yet.

  Omar turned and introduced her to them in English. She was a bit overwhelmed, some shook her hand, others nodded. There was an Herve, a Mohammed, Bertrand maybe, she heard them all but had forgotten them right away. There was a lot of masculine energy in the group, they were hairy and strong, their eyes regarded her strangely and none of them spoke her language. And these guys didn't work for Omar, weren't employees at Frontec, they were equals in many ways to Omar when it came to the team, though he was number one on the crew. Would they see her intrusion as a weakness in Omar?

  Omar had his back to her now and was in French again. He was going over details with them, she heard a lot of numbers being said, those she recognized. Probably budgets or maybe Highway numbers, she wasn't sure. Could be anything. Most Likely money, he’d been talking about the budget a lot.

  She looked down at her sneakered feet, the cheap canvas shoes standing in the gravel. She played with a stone with her toes, her arms folded under her breasts. They were still going on in French, some of the other guys giving their opinion now. She slipped away from him and went back to the BMW. She opened the door and got her coffee from the holder, leaned against the car and sipped it while she watched them plan their day.

  She heard the motorcycle before she saw it. A loud one, bright red, the rider slung low over it as it sped down the quiet street, coming in fast off the highway. He leaned into the corner, getting too low she thought, and he whipped around it and came right into the parking lot. One of the race crew stepped away and challenged him, like he was going to wrestle rider and bike together. The bike went right to him, stopping with the wheel right between his legs. He grabbed the bike by the handlebars as the rider jumped off. The rest of the group were laughing now.

  The rider took his helmet off and she saw it was a guy. With his slight build she couldn't be sure. He had a tan complexion and long dark hair. She realized he must be the driver. He clasped hands with some of the guys and with Omar and they were all talking amongst themselves in their language. The man who challenged him wheeled his bike into the garage for him.

  Omar was walking backwards toward her now and she got off the door and went around to the passenger side.

  “Hey, so we are ready?” he asked her.

  “Yeah,” she said and she opened the door.

  They got in and closed the doors and he fired up the car he loved, revved it for the crew.

  “You think they’re mad?”

  “Who?”

  “The crew. Mad I'm coming.”

  “No, why?”

  “None of them are bringing anyone. Why are you bringing me?”

  “Fuck them. You have to come with me. This might be our only chance. I can't cancel the race and I can't let you get away. This is the way it has to be, no?”

  “Yeah,” she said, settled back into the leather.

  The crew loaded into the two trucks with tools and parts and the pick-up with the trailer, black race car on the trailer hooked on the back. They got themselves onto the road, all three trucks ahead of them. Kate had both hands wrapped around the hot coffee, looking up at the fat back tires and big wide spoiler of the fearsome race car as it loomed above.

  3

  On Monday Kiley went to work like nothing had happened. The day was uneventful and she made four sales calls, went to lunch with an eye surgeon from Chicago General and put most of what happened on the weekend out of her mind. On Monday night she stayed in and ordered Chinese food, closed the blinds and pretended the outside world wasn’t there.

  On Tuesday morning there was a message on her desk to talk to Anne Stevenson from Human Resources. She knew it was trouble. She sat down at her desk and tried to make herself busy and avoid what she had been summoned to do. She felt like her face was flush, she felt like she was blazing red, and she knew it was big trouble whatever it was. She got herself to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on her face and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She looked terrified. She straightened the collar on her shirt, tucked in and buttoned her jacket. She went in her purse and got some makeup on her face and tried to look presentable. She took three deep breaths and tried to slow her heart rate down. When she thought she was ready she got her things together and went to the fourth floor where Human Resources was located.

  The office was non-descript. Small and cheaply appointed, it reminded her of a doctor’s waiting room. She went to the counter and talked to the young guy who was sitting there with a headset on. She told him who she was and he told her that they were expecting her and to just have a seat for a moment. She sat down on one of the tweed covered metal chairs, heard it squeak under her and she tried to sort through some magazines and see if there was something to pretend to flip through. Something that could at least make her look like she wasn't so frightened. There was nothing for her to read and she put her hands together and leaned forward and touched her forehead to her thumbs.

  “Kiley?” she heard someone say and she looked up. It was Anne Stevenson, the same woman that had hired her three years ago. She was a pleasant looking woman but also very professional and could appear intimidating at times with her stern brow and her sharp nose. Kiley smiled and lifted her eyebrows and got up and walked to her but Anne turned and Kiley followed her down the hall where she was escorted to a small meeting room. There were two other people already seated at the oval table. One she didn't know and the other was a man she recognized from the legal department. She forgot his name, she thought it might be Mark. He had dark hair parted to the side and a face that looked like it perhaps had never laughed.

  “Have a seat, Kiley,” Anne said. Kiley sat down at the table across from the three of them and put her hands together and tried to look as pleasant as she could. Anne introduced the other two sitting at the table to her. The one she didn't recognize was another executive from HR and the lawyer was Martin something. Not Mark.

  She nodded to them afraid to actually speak, afraid they would hear the tremble she knew would be in her voice. She had no idea what this could be but whatever it was it seemed like it was going to be huge. What had Jay done?

  Anne didn't tell her what the other two people at the table were sitting there for, she just began her speech.

  “Kiley, you are familiar of course with Jay Shaker. He is a surgeon and he is a customer of yours. We spoke with him yesterday. We met with him. He has canceled his account with you. He wants to remain at the company but he requested a different representative to deal with. While he has made no allegations against you, when pressed at the meeting he did allude to some indiscretions on your part. We are meeting with you to make sure that there is no basis for what he is saying. While we have to take seriously his claim we understand that he has made no specific complaint. Our legal department has suggested that we suspend you for two weeks while we investigate the matter.

  Kiley could feel herself go white. Felt her life drain from her. She felt very lightheaded and she struggled to maintain her composure. This job was everything to her, it was all that she had. Without this job she couldn't even be in America anymore. She knew they must know that. How could anyone do this to her? But she felt like there was nothing she could say. She wasn't the kind of person to defend herself—to lie about her actions. She was guilty, her intent was no harm but her actions still were not right. She had thought about that, what she had done and what it could mean to someone else. She knew that if she had been a man and done that to a female doctor the consequences would be enormous. But she was just a girl who had made a mistake, she wasn't some predator. She thought she felt something for Jay. She thought that he mattered to her. She thought that she mattered to him. She couldn't have been more wrong because now he had destroyed her. That man that had everything took away all that she had. But that didn't change the fact that there was no argument that she could make. Nothing she could say in her def
ence. She had done something wrong and now they were going to make her pay for it. Pay far more than what it should cost.

  “I don't know what to say,” she started but she could hear the tremble in her voice and it shut her up.

  Martin, the lawyer, spoke. He said, “Kiley there is no reason for you to say anything at this point, I think it is best if you go home for the day and we will be in touch.”

  “You don't want to hear my explanation or my version of what he might have said?”

  Martin said, “No, it is not us that will be doing the review you should go home and someone else will be in touch with you to talk to you about what has happened. You might want to seek your own representation before that meeting but I do not think that we should discuss the matter further here other than the details of your suspension. Do you have any questions about the suspension?”

  “No,” she said, it was very quiet and Martin asked her to repeat it and she said, No, again louder. She looked down at her hands on the conference table and saw them shaking. She looked up at the faces across from her and saw three people that would not reach out and put their hands over hers and try to make her feel better. These were three professional and unfriendly faces.

  “So I should just go home then?” she said.

  Anne said, “Yes, Kiley you should just go home, someone will be in touch. If there's nothing to worry about then you don't need to be worried.” Kiley thought it was meant to reassure her but she knew that something had happened and it was her fault. She just couldn't believe that it was so bad that Jay would make this happen. She stood up and looked at them hoping someone would say something before she left but they only looked at her blankly.

  She thought back to the day that she last sat in this room. It was the day that she filled out her paperwork for her employment and she remembered what a great day that was. How much hope she had for the future and how proud she was to have made such a change in her life. She didn't come from a place that produced people who made it this far. Who made it out of their Council and got to America and sign paperwork for a job that paid her a lot of money and gave her a lot of responsibility. That was a great day and she had phoned her mom and she called her brothers and she could hear how happy their voices were. She could hear the joy from them and hear how proud they were through the phone. How had it come to this? She was not that kind of person. She never got in trouble. She was good, she was kind, and she was caring. She did her job well. How did someone so diligent end up in front of these three uncaring faces?